PaperThin Hymn
by Ceris Malfoy
Summary: I'd like to believe they'll come back for me... I can't help but feel like this is my punishment for destroying both the All Spark and Megatron... I am Samantha Anne Witwicky, and I swear to Primus I am not insane. Bay-verse, AU. Genderswap. RnR.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Paper-Thin Hymn

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **I'd like to believe they'll come back for me... I can't help but feel like this is my punishment for destroying both the All Spark and Megatron... I am Samantha Anne Witwicky, and I swear to Primus I am not insane.

**Continuity: **Bay-verse

**Inspiration: **I've seen a few female!Sam stories, and have even liked two or three of them. While gender switch is nothing new for this fandom, I've never seen one that played out were things don't end so happily so Sam. This story has three parts, and each part will be a recounting of what happened during each movie as told by Sam at the end. Think of it as journal entries recounting her experiences. This will be a Decepticon/Sam fic, though I don't know which Con I want "her" with right now. I'll figure it out before I write the second part. This fic won't be finished until sometime in September – I can't wait to see the 3rd movie. XD It has Shockwave in it.

**Status: **Part 1 of 2

* * *

**January 23****rd****, 2008 (maybe)**

I am not insane.

I know what you're thinking. 'That's what they all say.' Am I right? Of course I am. And I know why you're thinking it, too. After all, those assholes in Sector 7 have made damn sure that there isn't a bit of evidence to support me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This would all make much more sense if I started at the beginning.

My name is Samantha Anne Witwicky, friends call me Sam. As far as I know, I am currently 17 years old – I've kept track of the days as best I could, but time has a way of creeping away from you in here, so I could be wrong. Not that it matters much, right? I was born to Ronald and Judy Witwicky, and believe me, compared to my parents, I'm downright _normal_. More normal then I have any right to be, at least.

I'm a semi-hard-working student, usually pulling a B-average, sometimes managing an A to please the parentals. I'm good enough with computers –a little too good, according to my best friend Miles – but not on the hacker-level. I'm a comic-geek with a comic book collection that puts other comic-geeks' collection to shame. I have the biggest crush/obsession on Micah Banes, and have had this crush/obsession with him since the first grade. Some might say it was this crush/obsession that got me into trouble, but that's not true. How could I blame him, when it was me that got him dragged into this mess to begin with?

See, Micah is, was, into cars. _Really_ into cars. Every girl he dated had a really sick ride, and as desperate as I was to get his attention, I knew I needed to get an even sicker one. Hence the two semesters of high school, slaving away over reports and equations to earn enough A's to get my dad to help me buy a car. I won't bore you with all the trivial details, but suffice to say that while the car I ended up with wasn't a brand new model that gleamed in the light, it was something I could feel happy about: a 1976 Chevy Camaro, all-leather interior and the best sound system I've ever seen (of course, the system didn't work right, but who was bitching?).

And while it normally wasn't something that would capture Micah's attention, it had one special feature that I hadn't known about. I was just putting my purchases in the car when I spotted Micah, running like all the demons of hell were after him, followed closely by a cop car. I never hesitated – got in my car, and gunned it. I pulled up in front of Micah, opened the door, told him to get in, and that's when everything turned to shit.

Turns out, the cop car wasn't just a cop car. Turns out, the cop car was a giant robot determined to squish the human that accidentally ran into it. Just my luck that my car turned out to be said cop-car-robot's mortal enemy.

Yeah. My car was a giant robot. An Autonomous Robotic Organism from the Planet Cybertron, a.k.a. Autobot, to be precise. My car introduced me to others. Others that said they were looking for _me_.

Epic shit went on, let me tell you. To cut an extremely long story short – Micah and I got kidnapped by a government organization that technically doesn't exist by the name of Sector 7, blackmailed the head of said organization (and now that I think about it, that might be part of the reason I'm here), and learned that I would have absolutely no sympathy if the Decepticons (the faction the Autobots were trying to keep from destroying the universe) did destroy Earth, or at least the assholes in Sector 7. Hell, I'd probably help. What right did those sanctimonious bastards have to take a living thing, cut it open, rip out its inner-workings and then create new technology off of it? Didn't they _think_? I shudder to think about what might have happened if Megatron had ever broken out of the Cryogenic Freezer they had him stuffed into, especially since the fools were keeping the All Spark, a Cybertronian artifact with untold powers, in the next hanger over.

Real smart.

And, yes, that was sarcasm.

And then, ladies and gentlemen, I got fucked royally by fate and destiny and ended up smack dab in the middle of a giant alien robot war being fought on Earth. On one side, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, basically telling me to shove the one artifact their race values above all things into his spark – which would destroy both the All Spark and Prime – and on the other, Prime's scary-as-all-fuck brother, Megatron the Slag-Maker, demanding I hand over the cube and be rewarded by living the rest of my life as his "pet".

I chose to ignore both of them, and instead thrust the All Spark into Megatron's chest – which was actually kinda fun, in an Oh-My-God-I'm-Gonna-Die kinda way.

And that's where my life turned to shit.

See, according to what the scientists that have been studying the cube told me, the cube's implosion should have leveled the entirety of Mission City, and the shockwave would have left billions in damages in every direction. I, being at ground zero, should have been completely disintegrated.

Only I wasn't.

In fact, if it weren't for the Cybertronian designs permanently burned onto my palms from where I held the ignited All-Spark, no one would have been able to tell that I had ever been there.

I don't know exactly what happened after that. All I remember is the feeling of heat-that-was-not-heat and the soaring feeling of triumph-that-was-not-my-own. I remember gazing up into a miniature supernova held between my hands and through that into a swirling ball of fire, light, and electricity. I remember hearing Megatron's roars of pain and fury, Optimus Prime's cries of denial and worry, and my own screams of defiance and a pain I felt only distantly. But more than that, I remember embracing something alien and alive and powerful beyond anything I could imagine.

And then the clarity fades. There are sounds, fuzzy images, and distant emotions, but mostly there is _nothing_, a void in my mind and thoughts. I am assuming I lost consciousness, but all things considered, I suppose the events that followed my defiance could have been so traumatic that I simply blocked them out. It certainly wouldn't surprise me.

The next thing I clearly recall is a slow coming-to; my vision blurry and my body tingling with that slightly-painful, completely-annoying half-asleep feeling; my thoughts cloudy and scattered; my tongue feeling like it had swollen to twice its usual size. Speaking from experience gained since then, I know now that I was drugged, possibly with simple pain-killers, possibly by sedatives, more likely with something specifically designed to keep me alive and awake but listlessly compliant.

Since then, my life has consisted of tests, experiments, and punishments. Moments of clarity are few and far between – I'm usually given an alarming cocktail of drugs, which I suspect greatly skews the results of the tests I'm forced to undergo.

I hate these bastards. I hate what they've done to me, and I hate what they're planning to do. I hate them, and the power inside of me agrees. With each passing day, the power inside grows more and more frustrated with our treatment. It has sent pulses, a distress-signal meant to attract protectors, but…

…I don't think they'll come.

Part of me wants to believe that they'll come for me, even if it's only to rescue the power of the All-Spark. Part of me wants to believe that Optimus Prime and Bumblebee and Ratchet and Ironhide would never stand by and allow this to happen to me. But that part of me is small and quiet, and grows smaller and quieter with each experiment I survive. Most of me believes that this is my punishment for daring to end Megatron's life; for daring to use the All-Spark as a weapon instead of the life-giver is was; for daring to defy Prime's orders.

I was placed in a position where I saw no other choice but to do what I did, and I know that if placed in the same position knowing what the consequences were, I'd still do it exactly the same.

I just want to go home. I want to know what happened to Micah and Mom and Dad. I want to be _safe_.

My name is Samantha Anne Witwicky, and I swear that I am not insane.

* * *

**This is NOT going to be a Mirror!Verse. The Decepticons are not going to be the good guys in this fic, nor are the Autobots the bad guys. However, this fic will be based off of Sam's perceptions, and Sam, despite having the All-Spark's powers inside of "her", does not know everything. In fact, there's a lot of stuff Sam doesn't know, like the fact that according to her government, Sector 7 is disbanded, and the Autobots have no reason not to believe that it has. She also doesn't know that several people under Sector 7 pay-roll have had her declared dead, and have hamstrung any efforts the Autobots have made to verify that fact. She doesn't know that her current location is next to impossible to penetrate with scans of any kind, and that the pulses the All-Spark power inside of her sent out were never felt.**

**I feel kinda mean now. XD RnR?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Paper-Thin Hymn

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **I'd like to believe they'll come back for me... I can't help but feel like this is my punishment for destroying both the All Spark and Megatron... I am Samantha Anne Witwicky, and I swear to Primus I am not insane.

**Continuity: **Bay-verse

**Inspiration: **I've seen a few female!Sam stories, and have even liked two or three of them. While gender switch is nothing new for this fandom, I've never seen one that played out were things don't end so happily so Sam.

**Status: **Part 2 of 2

* * *

**May 23****rd****, 2010 **

It is the 23rd of May, and so much has changed. My situation, my beliefs, my very _being_; everything has mutated beyond even my own understanding, and I don't even know where to begin to explain it all.

Perhaps I should begin with the merging of my conscious-self and the power of the All-Spark? Should I describe the intense pain I felt, like I was being continuously ripped apart and rebuilt on a microscopic level, millions of times in each passing second? Should I mention the power that back-lashed from the merge and how it caused an explosion that wiped out the entirety of the secret base, including twenty-six 3-7 year olds and 7 adults on a bus that happened to have been just above the base when it blew? Should I describe the unbearable agony of being blasted forty feet in the air and crash landing on ruined steel and concrete, shattering my legs and spine, and then being forced to lie there, in too much pain to even scream as my newly-gained power instinctively attempted to fix the damage, over and over and over again, each time just mangling me worse, until I finally blacked out?

Perhaps I should begin with Starscream, who was investigating the power spike and found me, broken, but otherwise unharmed in the epicenter of an explosion that, once again, should have left me nothing bust dust and memories? Perhaps I should mention the long, pain-filled hours of being poked and prodded by the Decepticon medic (and I use that title exceptionally loosely) before he did something to my spine that left everything below the waist blissfully numb before finding a drone small enough to transform into a wheelchair so that I wouldn't be further damaged by mechs carrying me around like some sort of dementedly mangled baby-doll?

Maybe I should begin with meeting the Fallen, clutched in Starscream's trembling servos and being held out like a lamb to slaughter? Maybe I should mention the Fallen's power, sick and twisted and foul and poisoned; a necrotic, ooze-like feeling that tried to invade my very being, take my power, and bend it to his will? Or maybe I should mention the way I struggled, crying and pleading with him to stop, desperately trying to keep my power away from him while Starscream watched, silent and wary? Maybe I should mention that the only reason I did not become a puppet driven by the Fallen's own power is because I was "incomplete" and thus useless for his purposes?

No.

I think, perhaps, the best place to truly begin would be with meeting the newly resurrected Megatron, staring at him and feeling reasonably sure that he would be the last thing I ever saw. It was more than an expectation, it was a hope, small but bright inside of me. I _hoped_ Megatron would seek revenge for his death. I _hoped_ he would put me out of my misery. I would never walk again, doomed forever to be carted around by Decepticons who only put up with my fragile organic shell because of the power I contained. The Fallen might have found me useless for his purposes, but Megatron, I knew, would not care if I was incomplete or not. I contained the power of the All Spark, I _was_ the All Spark now, and he would use me until there was nothing left to be used.

Oh yes, I wished for death.

But, when I met him, he gave me no look of anger, or dislike, or even mild annoyance. I stared at him and he stared back at me, silent as the dead and twice as grave, calculating and cold, but not a hint of violence to be found. He stared at me for a long time before holding out his servo, upon which rested the small sliver of the All Spark with which he had been resurrected. As soon as I saw it, and fully registered what it was, Megatron, Starscream, the Fallen, all of them ceased to exist for me. All that mattered, all I could see and comprehend, was that tiny sliver of myself held out to me.

I reached out and took it, and perhaps I would have regretted doing so, if I could remember anything about the pain of "integrating" the severed section of myself. As it was, there was nothing but a black void in my memory after taking the shard.

That, and waking, slightly pained, but feeling relatively good and with an understanding of things I had never known, and no one bothered to tell me. I knew most of what had driven Cybertron into war, and despite common belief, not all of it was because of Megatron and his compulsive need for power. There were many gaps in my "memories" though; ranging from a couple of moments to gaps of thousands of years, but I knew one thing for certain: The Fallen was a plague, an abhorrence that should never have existed, and once it did, had grown wildly out of control and infected everything around him.

The Fallen had to die.

The Fallen _would_ die, but how, where, and when were lost to me.

For days I lingered amongst the Decepticon Elite, being passed between Megatron and Starscream as they both prepared for something big. Neither of them spoke to me; indeed, they never spoke aloud at all when I was in their presence, which was always, so I got to watch them interact. There was a strange tension between them. Had they been human, I would have said that they were in love and in serious denial about it, but they were not human, and besides which their reactions to each other were horribly off to be love.

And though I contained the power of the All Spark, neither Starscream nor Megatron tried to force me to use it. I was unsure whether or not this was because I was still "incomplete," but still, at the time, all I could think was that maybe, just maybe, the Decepticons weren't that bad. It was a naïve thought, and despite where I am now and the purpose to which I've willingly bound myself, I still cringe at the remembrance of my stupidity.

Let us be clear about this, for there can be no misunderstanding. The Decepticons are monsters made of jagged metal and ruthless ambition. They are the stuff of nightmares and war given form. There is no such thing as mercy amongst their kind; no kindness; no favors done for free. Every move and action had a price and a plot behind it; every favor or kindness a threat and a promise in disguise. Starscream, in particular, is very, _very_ good at those games, leading even seasoned Decepticons – those who really should know better – into traps made of supposed weakness and flaws, traps that spring easily and without warning and make the victim pay most dearly for their forgetfulness of just _why_ Starscream is _second_ only to Megatron.

And to this day, I'm convinced that Megatron is feared by all because he is the only mech that can truly control Starscream.

But I digress.

I was eventually taken back to Earth, where we ended up stuck inside an abandoned warehouse for another couple of days before things finally got interesting. Even before they arrived, I could feel it: another piece of myself, burning erratically, pulsing strongly before it was smothered by something that felt familiar and noticeably _human._ It bothered me then that I was disgusted and furious that something so _primitive _would dare deny even the smallest sliver of the All Spark's power. But more than that, I was bothered by the fact that I had become so different that I couldn't even identify with humanity any longer, let alone understand why whoever it was would try to suppress the All Spark's power so strongly.

Although I never did – even when I had been completely human, I had accepted and welcomed the alien power into myself and allowed it to do as it willed.

Then I saw just which human contained that sliver of myself in them, and I could barely contain my dismay.

_Micah_.

Perfect, darling Micah.

Micah, who had never been pumped full of drugs and experimented on. Micah, who had never been forced to create life and then be forced to watch as his captors dissected the small, comparatively harmless _babies_ while they were still alive. Micah, who didn't know what it was to want to be rescued so badly that he was ready to sell his soul to whoever would take it just to be free. Micah, who had never laid in the epicenter of an explosion that took the life of innocents, broken and bleeding and wishing for death.

Perfect, whole Micah, who looked at me, and did not recognize me. Perfect, beautiful Micah, whom I had obsessed over and loved for years, whom I had discovered an alien race with, and the perfect, beautiful blonde he was trying so desperately to shield from danger.

I turned away from Micah. I wanted nothing more to do with him. I ignored his pleas for mercy and his pitiful attempts at bargaining as Megatron _toyed_ with him; I ignored his high-pitched screams of fear when Scalpel decided he needed Micah's brain on the table.

What I did not ignore, what I _could_ not ignore, was Optimus Prime exploding through the ceiling of the warehouse, bellowing a battle cry and already reaching for his brother. I was numb for a while before I became absolutely furious. _Micah_ was important enough to come for, but I wasn't? Never before in my life had I had the knowledge that I, Samantha Anne Witwicky, was so worthless, so _unwanted_, slapped in my face. The fury bubbled in me like a live entity living within my veins, and I screamed out a litany of insults, phrases I shouldn't have known, in a language I shouldn't have been able to learn, let alone speak.

There was silence for a moment, a brief pause in the chaos of the moment, where everyone turned to look at me. There was shock in Prime's optics, shock and recognition. I wondered at that shock, for surely he knew I was alive and out of my captors' hands – the explosion had, according to Starscream, left a very familiar power signature behind that any Cybertronian would have been able to recognize. But there was no time to act on anything, because Micah was scrambling off the table and running out the nearest exit – which happened to be by me.

He never once looked at me, not even when I reached out a hand and brushed it against his own perfect skin, shivering as I called the power residing in him back to me. Optimus felt the pull, the rise of power that I called, and he looked at me, optics wary, but hopeful.

I had the option then to go back to the Autobots, to stop myself from becoming the Decepticons tool. I had the chance then to go back to some semblance of home with Bumblebee and receive proper medical attention. I had had the chance. But in my mind, all I could think of was those years spent alone and in pain, wishing for someone – _anyone_ – to come for me, dying a little more inside every day that no one ever did. All I could think of was that Micah could not have been missing for more than a couple of hours at the most, but yet here Optimus Prime was, smashing through perfectly innocent ceilings promising divine retribution if Micah was hurt.

I hated him.

I turned my back on Optimus Prime and everything he stood for that day. And though I did not know it then, I also turned my back completely on humanity as well. I went willingly to Starscream, who scooped me up carefully and deposited me into his cockpit before transforming and getting the hell out of there. Starscream was the fastest living thing in the 'verse according to every Decepticon I had asked, and he was my 'minder' for precisely that reason.

We had barely left that warehouse, when I began to integrate that last sliver of myself. Integrating that power and the knowledge attached to it was a lengthy, difficult process, or so was told by an irritated Hook, but one that I never seem to remember clearly. There was no pain, though Hook says I was screaming as if in terrible agony. There was only peace and the feeling of fullness.

When I was next aware, I was …_different_. Not a broken, helpless human, but not a Cybertronian either. I was something betwixt and between. The drone which had served as my wheelchair was gone, but one could tell just by looking at me where the drone had gone – it was made of Cybertronian alloy, had no spark with which to claim its right to live like Starscream did, and was just big enough to be properly integrated into my own body structure.

I could walk again.

Megatron showed up about 3 days after my changes, bearing many wounds but triumphant in manner. I healed him without asking permission, trying to show without words that I had made my choice and had chosen my allegiance. I would not fight whatever plans the Decepticons had for me, but I also would not be their slave – I was now a being of power, though limited in how I could use it, and in my head was all the knowledge of their once mighty race. Though I did not fool myself into believing I could control or change them, or that they would accept any attempt on my part to do so, I was hopeful that they would be accepting of some small degree of independence.

And using the knowledge I contained, I also began drawing up plans to trap and kill the Fallen. I won't bore you with the tedious details, but suffice to say I tipped Prime and his human allies off about my plans, just as I convinced Megatron, Starscream, and my victim to go through with them. When we showed up in Egypt – me leading a small team to Petra where the tomb of the Primes and the Fallen's coveted Matrix of Leadership awaited; Megatron and the Fallen leading the Decepticons to the ….. in Egypt, under one of which contained the Solar Harvester – the Autobots and their human allies where waiting.

It was all out war, and once my retrieval was done, Starscream wisely kept him and me out of it. We watched the destruction from a safe distance as the battle raged. When Devastator had finally freed the Solar Harvester from the pyramid in which it lied, the Fallen teleported in front of us and snatched me from Starscream's hand, teleporting back to the Harvester and thrusting me onto the ledge near the mechanism that would turn it on. I knew what the Fallen wanted me to do. I also knew what I would not allow to happen, if only because he wanted it. I fought his will as best I could, buying those few precious seconds I needed for Prime to tear the Fallen (literally) apart.

And then there was a long, lasting silence, as every last living sentient on that field transferred their gaze to me. I met Prime's glowing blue optics, and felt Megatron's burning crimson stare. I was distantly aware of Starscream landing on the pyramid slightly below me, watching cautiously.

I had in my hands the Matrix of Leadership, and though it did not glow for me, it also did not fall apart as it normally would for any who had not earned it – the power of the All Spark was something beyond its judgment, and so I could hold it, contemplating what I should do next.

I thought of my parents, who even if they had tried to find me, would have been powerless to rescue me. I thought of all my family, really, and families just like them; they who were helpless and powerless in the grand scheme of things, but good people who loved their children and did their best to provide safe environments for said children to grow up in. I thought of the hatchlings, dying a slow, lingering death inside their pods of rotting energon. I thought of Starscream, and the tiny life form growing swift and strong next to his spark that I could sense even though Starscream himself was unaware of it. I thought of my father, and the family motto.

No sacrifice, no victory.

I looked at Prime, and his endlessly blue optics stared back at me, silent and resigned. He knew. He knew even before I did what my choice would be. I _could_ have come back to the Autobots, and have been welcomed – I had, after all, given them the push and information needed to stop the Decepticons from being victorious.

I could have, it would have so _easy_, but I wouldn't.

No sacrifice, no victory.

There was a price to be paid for power, and the simple fact of the matter was that I had a duty, a responsibility that came with being the All Spark. A duty to the young and helpless; a responsibility to ensure that the race did _not_ die out, plague of destruction though they had become. The nurturing and protective instincts attached to the All Spark's power – my power – did not lessen or go away simply because they had become attached to what had once been an organic life form. Indeed, I think they may have only gotten stronger. I may be used as a weapon one day, my choice of faction pretty much guarantees it, but I was still a Creator first.

The Autobots did not need me; they did not want me. And I was no longer capable of being human. My choice was easy.

I activated the Solar Harvester.

Megatron and the other Decepticons stayed long enough to ensure that the process could not be stopped by any means, while Starscream and I retreated back to the base on Mars. Alone in what had once been a magnificent war-ship, we watched the pure energon spill into the tanks as the tainted, rotting energon was drained out.

The magnitude of what I had done – extinguished life in the _billions_; annihilated an entire _planet_ – did not hit me until much, much later, but by then if was too late. There was nothing I could do to take it back, even if I had wanted to, and I am not entirely ashamed to admit that I don't regret it at all. Starscream, once his little "parasite" was discovered (and there was a rather awesome row between Megatron and Starscream when the seeker _publicly_ blamed Megatron for its conception), was assigned to me permanently. I don't particularly mind, as the mech is highly intelligent and inclined to lecturing when prodded in just the right way, and I enjoy learning the things that had been discovered after the All Spark was launched into space so long ago.

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been life if I had never been entrapped with Sector 7. I wonder what could have been if I had gone with Optimus that first time. I wonder what Bumblebee thinks of me, if he does at all.

I am a murderer on a scale that most Decepticons can not compete with. By my choices, I have bound myself to the Decepticon cause for as I long as I may live; and I am so much more than the All Spark because of it.

I am life. I am death. I am power with a conscious mind and will, and I have bound myself above all things to one rule:

The hatchlings come first.

May Primus forgive me.

* * *

**This story was _supposed_ to have three parts, and was _supposed_ to be a Decepticon/Sam pairing, but as I was writing this part, I had an idea that refused to let me go. And while this is still a not-so-happily-ever-after story on Sam's part, it also ended up being something of a cliffhanger. So if the third movie provides me with enough good ideas, I may still be convinced to do the third part. As it is, I may do a small epilogue. If I do, I need help deciding Sam's Cybertronian name and title. I was going to go for the clichéd "All Mother," but enough of this story is clichéd as it is, so I want something new. And please give your reasons for the name and title you guys chose, because I want something that actually makes sense, not just something that sounds cool.**

**A little about this chapter as opposed to the previous one. In the previous chapter, Sam was still human. She thought like a human and felt like a human; she had a human's concerns and fears. In this chapter she has evolved, I guess you could say. She tries to explain her actions from a human point of view, but she isn't human, and can't quite bring herself to explain things she doesn't even understand. In the previous chapter, Sam was sepperate from the All Spark - the All Spark was more of a parasitic symbiont than a part of her, whereas in this chapter, they've merged so perfectly that "Sam" can only be found by those who understand what to look for.**

**As far as relationships in this fic go, I'll state this loud and clear. No, Sam is not involved with Megatron, the Fallen, or Starscream. If I do eventually stick to my original thought process, she'll end up with either Shockwave or Soundwave, depending on the third movie and which one ends up winning the Awkwardly-and-really-creepily-sexy award. So far, Soundwave and that poor, poor virgin satellite has it in the bag. Starscream's little "parasite" _is_ a hatchling, and yes, it _is_ Megatron's. I may do a side-story with the happy fun times that is Starscream knocked-up, but then again, I may not. **

**As far as canon events go, I pretty much ended up using only basic events and plot lines. Hot blonde with Micah _is_ Alice, but Alice in this case belongs to the Autobots, not the Decepticons. She was sent to play body-guard and peace-keeper when Micah started having psychotic breaks involving alien knowledge even Prime didn't know. Prime never dies - Megatron returns triumphant because not only did he successfully drive his brother off, but the All Spark's new vessel, an organic that had originally chosen the Autobots, had just _willingly_ placed itself in his control. Megatron does not know why - remember, Starscream only found Sam in the epicenter of an explosion, not in a lab being experimented on, and Sam will _never_ willingly tell anyone what she's been through. Battle in Egypt still carried through, though much more nasty and without all the dramatic running and moral-boosting speeches. **

**RnR?  
**


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